


We Live in Interesting Times

by Avanalae



Series: Harry the Information Broker [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Androgynous Harry Potter, Dying Will Flames (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Harry Potter is a Mess, Humor, Italian Mafia, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Master of Death Harry Potter, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Powerful Harry Potter, Pre-Relationship, Sawada Iemitsu Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:33:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22358788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avanalae/pseuds/Avanalae
Summary: Harry Potter has left the wizarding world behind and ended up involved with the mafia as an independent information broker.He's not terribly surprised.He ends up acquainted with Reborn and the cursed baby asks him to join him in Japan for a job.The fact that he accepts is more out of ennui than surprise. Really.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Harry Potter & Sawada Nana, Harry Potter & Sawada Tsunayoshi, Harry Potter/Reborn (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)
Series: Harry the Information Broker [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609465
Comments: 267
Kudos: 1485





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ended up making a continuation of Shop of Needs. I would recommend reading that first, if you haven't. 
> 
> I'm not really sure where I'm gonna go with this but this chapter was realatively easy to write. So keep in mind that this fic will probably not update very frequently.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are going fine in his little shop of information distribution. Reborn is a nuisance but he's dealt with worse. Until the damn not-baby throws him for a loop and he ends up in Japan.

Reborn becomes a regular at his little shop. Regulars are not unusual; he has many of them. The unusual part is the hitman himself.

  
Reborn is the World's Greatest Hitman. And Harry is not surprised at the comments of him being the strongest sun, either. He assumes it’s why he was cursed. But the cursed man has many of his own contacts, many relationships with other famiglias to exploit for information.

  
So he wonders why the baby comes to his shop.

  
He probably brought it upon himself, like most everything that happens to him these days.

  
Oh well.

  
Anyway, their relationship is an amicable one, so Harry doesn’t mind it. The hitman will stop by for various reasons about once a week when he's in the country. Sometimes he will ask for information. Sometimes they end up gossiping for hours about different mafioso or famiglias. Sometimes the hitman will just come in and complain about the work. In return, Harry will feed him innocent little tidbits of information or personal snippets. 

  
On one memorable occasion, he even got the coffee-addicted hitman to try tea. That was an experience. He could tolerate black tea well enough but he still doesn’t know what to pay Harry with to delete the picture of the face he made when he first tried it off his phone.

  
It’s his lock screen background now.

  
But some things are shifting in the mafia scene, now. Harry’s sense of important events has been nagging at him, so he poked around as he has become quite skilled at doing. 

  
Now, he knows many of the Vongola's little secrets, including many involving the Varia. But perhaps he had been too hasty to brush off Sawada Iemitsu.

  
Harry takes a calming sip of his tea as he looks over the paperwork again. He makes sure to loosen his death grip on the mug, as well. It's his favorite, and while he could fix it easily if it broke, he'd rather avoid it.

  
He ends up setting it aside so he can gather up the paperwork. He has it memorized, now, and he might as well store it away. But as he holds the stack of papers, he finds himself staring at the face of the miserable little boy in the attached photo.

  
He decides then that he hates Sawada Iemitsu and, to a slightly lesser extent, Vongola Timeteo.

  
He files the papers away and pulls out a book so he can finish his tea in peace.

* * *

“I have a new assignment.”

  
Harry hums, mostly distracted by the newspaper in his hands. It's a German one; he’s trying to pick up the language.

  
“In Japan.”

  
Another hum. Leon nibbles on the corner of the page.

  
“I’ll likely be gone for a long while.”

  
“Wonderful,” Harry mutters as he tries to turn the page Leon has a grip on.

  
Reborn watches their struggle for a while before getting to the point.

  
“I want you to come with me.”

  
That gets Harry’s attention. He looks up and stares blankly at the baby hitman.

  
“I’m sorry, what?”

  
Reborn raises an eyebrow.

  
“No, I mean it. What in the world are you talking about? Why would you want me to accompany you on a perfectly reasonable and easily handled tutoring job?” Harry gives in to Leon and just surrenders the paper, still staring at the baby.

  
“So you know what my job is, then.” It’s not a question and Harry continues to stare. “Alright, I believe you discount your own abilities. Though I haven’t seen you fight I know you can take care of yourself, so I wouldn't have to worry about you. I could do with some company.”

  
Harry raises an eyebrow in an expression of utter disbelief.

  
“Fine,” Reborn concedes, “I have reason to believe that this job is going to be… troublesome. Nothing I couldn’t handle, but I would appreciate your presence being readily available.”

  
I won’t ask you to come right away. Take your time, do what you need, but I can easily help you locate a little shop in Namimori.” Reborn’s gaze never wavers from Harry’s.

  
Harry rests his head on his propped up arm, his hand cupping his cheek. He stares right back at Reborn. To be honest, he really isn’t sure about what brought this on. 

  
Reborn is an egotistical man who hates relying on anyone or anything. He can do the impossible easily and doesn’t need others to help him on jobs. 

  
But Harry… Harry sees a tug on Reborn’s strings of fate. He looks and sees them branching off, twisting and turning and impossible for any mortal to keep track of. But Harry sees and Harry knows. The friendly bond they share is Fate's playground right now, leading their fate this way and that.

He glances down at the pacifier, such an innocuous thing at first glance. But such a terrible thing on second.

  
He’s going to regret this, but he’s always been a Gryffindor.

  
“Fine.”

  
He wants knock that smugly satisfied smirk off his face.

* * *

Harry knows that one very likely reason for Reborn wanting to have him come along is to keep an eye on him. The hitman is probably still feeling uncertain as to his motivations, regardless of the fact that they’ve known each other for over half a year now.

  
Then again the baby hitman is probably the most paranoid person he knows, so it’s not a big surprise.

  
But here he is, packing his belongings for an indefinite trip. He has a luggage bag and a carry-on bag to avoid suspicion, mostly from Reborn. He's not sure where he’ll be staying but he's sure there will be a hotel of some sort there and he can stay there until he decides on a shop or an apartment. 

  
He has no delusions that this is going to be a short trip. 

  
He locks up the shop, activating the lockdown wards. It wouldn’t do to have anyone to try and break in, after all. He already sorted the paperwork and the money will be taken for the lease automatically until he comes back. He’s all set. 

  
He calls a taxi and asks for the airport.   
Reborn left a while ago, and Harry had wanted to tie up some loose ends before following. He will continue at least some of his info brokering, for the income and for the entertainment. But he's not going to disclose his location for his time in Japan.

  
Harry, trained as he is, decides against economy class and goes for the roomier first class. It’s a bonus that there’s more room with the one seat on each side, so he's not trapped by other people.

  
As the plane takes off, Harry stares out the window, contemplative. He knows the main reason he decided to do this is that he was feeling restless. He loves his shop, of course, but a life being hunted and time on the run leaves its mark.

  
His hand comes up to play with the ring on the chain around his neck. It’s a habit to play with it, now that he can without turning the stone on accident. The metal is always cool against his skin, reagardless of always being on his person.

  
He leans back and closes his eyes.

  
Life is about to get even more interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start out smoothly, but there are bumps in the road ahead. Harry has to settle some things and ends up finally meeting a certain fluffy boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have a couple reviewers to thank for this chapter. I had no ideas or plans until they commented but here we are. 
> 
> So... comment! I will always read and take into consideration any requests or ideas. This is gonna be a fic that develops as it goes.

Harry had never actually met a Sky before. It is no surprise, truly, as no Sky would bother themselves with the task of gathering information when their elements or peons were at hand. Especially in Italy, it seemed. 

He had, of course, met Reborn so he was quite familiar with the different types of flames. Famiglias would send their minions to him and often they had flames as well. It didn’t matter whether or not they told him: he always knows. Of course, no one has compared to the one Arcobaleno he has met.

Knowing his luck, however, he is likely to encounter them all at some point or another. 

But he’s digressing.

He looks down at the kid who entered his bookstore just moments ago. Short, with big brown eyes and brown hair as wild as his. 

Wide brown eyes that flash a burnished gold when their gazes met.

Interesting.

The boy blinks and bows, stuttering out apologies that Harry waves aside. “But I-"

“Kid, this is a bookstore, open to the public. No matter how you barged in here like the hounds of hell were on your heels, you’re welcome here.” He flicks his hand in the direction of the bookshelves. “Feel free to browse while you calm down.” With that he returns to his paper, seeming to ignore the little Sky.

The boy stutters some more but when the man doesn’t react, his shoulders slump. In relief or something else, Harry doesn’t know. He looks behind himself, out the window, then turns back and starts off hesitantly towards the shelves. Harry can tell this kid doesn’t read much by the way he handles the books and it amuses him.

Harry was slightly surprised to find that Reborn had indeed found him a shop when he arrived in Namimori. It wasn’t an antique store, but a second-hand bookstore. He didn’t mind so much; he was reading more these days after all and it would be mighty convenient. 

He had shrunk and packed a few of his favorite chairs and such, too, so he added them when he arrived. When Reborn had come around next, Harry was given a highly suspicious look that he just smiled at.

Harry recalled the case file he managed to sneakily copy of Reborn's task here. Sawada Tsunayoshi was very much like he expected, but seemed to be doing just a bit better since Reborn came to him barely three months ago. Through Reborn's subtle complaints and his own observations, he knew the boy had friends now, if not very many.

He glances up and out the front window, watching the two kids that seem to be circling the neighborhood, shouting for someone. Gokudera Hayato and Yamamoto Takashi, he presumes. He admittedly hadn’t bothered to check in yet so this was his first time seeing them so close. They seemed to lack a sense of subtlety, though.

Tsuna, as he understands the boy prefers to be called, seems to be absorbed in a book when he looks over. He's standing in front of the shelf, obviously having been too caught up in the book to find a place to sit. Harry clears his throat and grins at the way the kid jumps and clumsily shoves the book back on the shelf while trying to turn to face him.

“U-um, I-"

Harry waves his hand to dismiss his apologies once again. “Books are for reading, kid. I’m not going to begrudge you for doing so.” He eyes the hastily put away book, “But I would like you to treat them with a bit more regard.”

“Ah…” Tsuna glances back at the book them back up to him. “R-right, okay.”

“Anyway,” Harry continues, “Your friends are outside looking for you.”

Tsuna looks at him wide-eyed for a moment before looking out the front windows, “Oh!” He stumbles over to his bag, which had been laying discarded against a bookshelf, and throws it on over his shoulder. He rushes to the door but freezes when his hand lands on the doorknob.

He turns to Harry, his eyes not the same gold as before but shining with just a hint of it. “Thank you for letting me stay here, sir. My name is Sawada Tsunayoshi. Call me Tsuna.”

Harry hums and leans forward a bit on his arms, resting more on the desk. “Call me Harry, kid. Come back any time.”

He pouts a bit at being called “kid" still, but leaves without saying more.

Harry chuckles and gets up to check on the book the boy was reading. It wouldn’t do for it to be damaged, after all. He pulls it out, flips it to see the cover, and almost drops it.

“What…?” Harry murmurs, startled.

For in his hands is a book titled “The Tales of Beedle the Bard.” A very distinctly magical book. Granted, it is still very much a book, made of paper and ink, and thus can be read by anyone. But he’s very sure that all of his magical books are in a different part of the store and the only copy he has of this book has been, until now, sealed in one of his trunks.

He glares at the book, incredibly suspicious.

The book gives no answers. 

Harry lets out a sigh and tucks it under his arm. There's some sort of foul play going on here but he’s not sure by who or why. Perhaps he will find out, but likely not. But something is afoot and it makes him wary, more so than he already had been.

He puts the book away in its trunk, wondering if he'll see it again soon.

* * *

Harry has been thinking recently. Something that has been happening with increasing frequency over the years. His school friends would be very surprised, if he kept in contact with more than Neville, Luna, and George. Though even that communication is sparse.

It mostly started when he met Reborn. Yes, he had met others with flames before then, but the sheer power the not-baby wielded and the Arcobaleno curse drew his attention. There is precious little known about the origins of both flames and magic, but Harry isn’t necessarily tied down by only human sources. Not that he goes much beyond his own observations. He's still… hesitant about interacting with Them.

Humans have many defining attributes. Too many to count, perhaps. After all, there are billions of humans inhabiting the planet and all of them are unique. But it's not just humans, is it? There are other beings, both sentient and not, that exist. While they are not the same as humans, do they not, too, have attributes? 

There are, however, multiple attributes that are… shall we say, supernatural. But even those attributes boil down to two sources.

Magic and Flames.

Now, this, Harry muses, is only applicable to earthly beings. He, himself, is… a bit more than that, and thus falls under a different purview. As far as he is aware, at least. His power no longer feels like his magic did, once upon a time. It feels like more now. More what, he doesn’t know, but he has time to find out.

Plenty of time.

But in the meantime, he continues his study of flames: a power so different from magic and yet seemingly born from the same foundations. Two powers that, a while similar in aspect, seem to act as magnetic poles, pushing each other away.

He is sure there is no creature, human or otherwise, that can handle both actively. He imagines that the two powers would tear them apart. But perhaps, he chuckles wryly, maybe with his luck he would have been the first. 

Had he still been mortal.

* * *

“What do you think?”

It’s not so much a question as a demand, but Harry knows Reborn well by now and isn’t at all surprised.

“He’s very... fluffy.”

Reborn raises an eyebrow.

Harry mirrors him.

The standoff is interrupted by Leon, yet again, trying to eat his newspaper. Harry glares at the flame-born creature and tugs it away.

“Fluffy. Really.”

Harry hums and tosses the newspaper aside to keep it out of the chameleon's reach. “Both in hair and personality.”

Reborn doesn’t sigh. He is far too dignified. 

“Really, though,” Harry continues, “there’s something about him. A spark, I guess I’ll call it.” He links his fingers and rests his chin on them. He thinks back on that flash of gold in his eyes. “In my considered opinion…” he looks at Reborn, who is not overtly anticipatory but is at least interested, “you are going to have a hell of a time of this, Reborn. But I believe that once the ball is rolling, things will only get better in the long run. For everyone.”

Reborn hums and considers what he said. Harry knows that his words only carry a bit more weight with the not-baby than others because similar things have happened before. Mostly unintentional, of course, because even as he grows wiser, in some ways he grows more careless. 

He’s let comments slip a few times when Reborn had come before assignments. Mostly nonsensical but with hidden meaning. Every time this happened, Reborn came back to the shop after the assignment and spent the day there, staring at him and eventually contemplating things Harry didn’t bother to ask about. It was terribly annoying, however, when he was there while Harry was trying to handle customers. The considering stare of the hitman, even indirectly, is a weighty thing. 

He's sure he's going to mess up at some point. He can only distract and divert so many times before Reborn figures him out. In the meantime he’ll try to figure out what to do if he does find out. 

“Anyway, don’t you have better things to do? Like, say, your job?” Harry muses.

Reborn shrugs, “I can’t be there for him all the time. He's at school and if something happens to him, he’ll have to deal with it.”

Harry hums and sips his tea, which he'd forgotten about. If Reborn notices that it’s still warm after so long, he says nothing. “By the way, I have a… request.”

Reborn raises an eyebrow.

“You know I like to keep things neutral in my shop… shops.” Reborn's face doesn’t change but Harry still knows he's annoyed. Probably remembering the first time they met. “If Tsuna comes in here for refuge I ask that you leave him be.”

Reborn's eyes narrow and Harry understands easily. “I don’t want to interfere much, however, so I will make sure he has only a limited time here. He can’t just run away each day and hide away. After all, things will come to catch him eventually whether he is prepared or not. But, Reborn,” He pauses and looks the hitman in the eye, not glaring but deadly serious. “He will have a safe space. It will be here until he finds another himself, but he will have one. As will his friends, I would expect them. The world is not a safe place, I know very well. But I will not deny a child the right to a safe haven.”

They stare at each other for a long while, Reborn's gaze flicking from one of his eyes to the other on occasion. His look is piercing, as if trying to understand what makes him tick. Just by requesting this he's sure that he has given the hitman plenty to work with but this request supersedes his need to keep the not-baby off his tail. Besides, he’s sure the hitman won’t ask about it, at least not any time soon. Harry doesn’t let up his stare and eventually Reborn nods.

With that, nothing more needs to be said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry sees something he's not prepared for and panics. Afterwards he realizes that he's been holding himself back by ignoring things and he resolves to improve. 
> 
> Reborn wonders what's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _!_!_!_!_
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> _!_!_!_!_
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A DESCRIPTION OF A PANIC ATTACK!! 
> 
> _!_!_!_!_
> 
> I have clearly marked it with the breaks you see here in this note. Please proceed with caution if you experience panic attacks or are easily triggered. Feel free to skip the section, if need be. The information in it is second to your health and safety.
> 
> _!_!_!_!_
> 
> Otherwise, please enjoy this chapter. :)
> 
> xoxo

The first encounter he has with the Dying Will Bullet is… unexpected, and thus he is completely unprepared for it. Though even if he'd been given notice, he would have had no idea what to expect, ending up in the same place.

In the end, in these kinds of situations, is it better to know beforehand? Or to adapt in the moment?

Looking back, Harry is still unsure.  
_

Things have been notably odd in this town since he arrived. Granted, Harry likely doesn’t have the best grasp on what might be considered “normal" but he's relatively sure that the sheer insanity on display almost daily is enough to be considered odd.

He wonders if that’s just something that comes with the mafia or if it's just Reborn.

Maybe both.

What’s crazier to him, though, is the reaction of the regular civilians. Or the lack of it, to clarify. He may not be the most socially adjusted of men but even he is sure this is unusual. 

He puts it out of his mind for the moment, though, as his eyes alight on Tsuna and his little group in the distance. He is hesitant to approach, largely because he hasn’t officially “met” any of Tsuna’s growing entourage, yet. But something is going down and he’s admittedly curious. He sighs and continues towards them.

But through the yelling breaks a gunshot and he feels suddenly split in two. He is only peripherally aware of Reborn. Of Tsuna shouting something as his clothes seem to burst off him and-

He manages to blink. 

All of this is distant. He feels a thousand miles away, observing as if it's some far away memory. 

But his heart is in his throat, pounding and choking, he can't _breathe_ -

He worries later, hoping no one notices as he disappears from the spot. He appears in his home with a loud crack and slams onto the floor of his living room with a crash. 

**_!_!_!_!_**

He knows nothing in the moment but the _panic_. He’s not aware of himself. He can’t tell if he's screaming, crying out, or even _breathing_. Everything is a blur – is he crying? He squeezes his eyes shut but nothing seems to change. All he can see is…

Is…

 _Gods_ -

He's clutching his face, grinding the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. All he can see is the _blaze_. 

He sobs, a dam in himself bursting and he _breaks_.

For what feels like the first time in his life he crashes and burns. His emotions roiling, as tumultuous as the storming seas and nearly as dangerous. His mind tattered and riotous, spinning faster and faster, destroying all in its wake as if a tornado. 

He's a natural disaster, kept at bay only by the warded walls of his small home. 

He should have known. Should have _expected_. All can do is blame the childish vestiges of his humanity that he had never even _considered_.

He realizes now that he had never seen someone die – even if temporarily - after the Hallows had sunk their claws into him and tore him apart to reshape him.

And _gods_ -

He feels his mind breaking, cracking, trying to hold itself together as the Hallows scratch and pull. He knows this shouldn’t be happening. Something is _wrong_. But he doesn’t know _what_.

He's scared that it's _him_.

Something pulls him back to that moment. He sees the shot. The bullet. The Dying Will Bullet. It’s not the first he's heard of it. But it’s the first time he's seen it in action. 

It’s not death. It doesn’t kill. But it does. 

It’s a dichotomy that tears him apart. He presses harder against his eyes, trying to make sense of it. Of what he saw.

Souls? Flames?

A… a gate. A blaze. 

He groans and curls in on himself further. 

He feels so disjointed, like he was… he was far away and he was also with Tsuna in the same moment. He was watching and reaching at the same time. An overwhelming pull. Attempting to… to…

He reaches, grasping for air and ends up dragging his nails against the floor. Suddenly twisting and falling over on his other side, his fist having collided with something but the thought is unimportant, he realizes that something in him is _shifting_. 

He's _drowning_. 

A breeze brushes his cheek, then runs through his hair as if it was a hand. He notices it but can't focus on it. But something is tugging at him and suddenly he's above it all, looking down on the puzzle of his mind. Scattered and broken, he stares at the mess absolutely stricken but whatever is pulling at him pulls him further and he can _breathe_.

He gasps, choking on air and his own tongue. The panic tries to grab him again but it's batted away. He feels the brush of something soft against his cheek again and something in him surges, grasping greedily at what it perceives as comfort. 

He's on his back now, tears streaming down his face. He's not sure where his hands are but somehow, he opens his eyes. Everything is terribly blurry, but there's… there’s _something_ above him and it’s all he can see yet he sees nothing. He tries to reach up but he can’t move. He feels as if his body is falling.

Is he tired? He must be. Is he dreaming, then? 

Something in him finally clicks into place and his whole being sighs, his eyes fluttering closed as his weakly reaching arms fall to the floor. In this place before sleep, as his mind calms and his body relaxes, he can finally _see_.

Hands on his cheeks, ice so cold it burns, tilting his head back. A soft breath of cool air washes over his face and he calms completely, relaxing boneless to the floor. He can breathe again. The panic is gone and has left something in its place.

But that’s a thought for later. For tomorrow.

It is time for rest now.

He falls away and into sleep between one breath and the next.

**_!_!_!_!_**

Harry wakes much later on a familiar hardwood floor. Staring at the ceiling, he takes stock of himself. Terribly achy, but no pain. His head feels a bit fuzzy, though, so he stays lying down. He looks around, taking everything in to help steady his mind.

The shop didn’t have a living space above it and while Harry had considered an apartment, he ended up buying a small house not too far from Tsuna's. Small, because he didn’t need much room. But a house because if he had an apartment, he'd have to worry about his wards interfering with the others who live in the building or he'd have to lighten up on how many wards he placed. Both of which are not something he wants to worry about.

He pokes mentally at the wards, gauging their status. He had armed this place to the teeth soon after he got it, not wanting to take any chances. It’s a good thing, too, because if he hadn’t, his panic attack would likely have leveled his house at the very least. The wards feel rather wobbly, strained as if standing on their last legs. If they _had_ legs. _Do_ wards have legs?

Harry chuckles distractedly and a bit hysterically before his mind turns to other matters. Putting aside the mental note to take care of that later, for now.

He has been… slacking. That’s a rather large understatement but it’s the first word that comes to mind. He's never really been the studious type, regardless of how much more he's reading these days. He's more of a “play it by ear" guy. Obviously. 

But… Harry sighs and throws an arm over his eyes. His damn eyes.

Those were the first things to change after the incredible power surge when he came back after the ambush during an auror raid he was conducting. After he had died. Again. That had knocked him on his arse for a while and when he returned to duty it was to wary looks from all departments. It was one of the deciding factors in his departure.

Can one digress in thought? He certainly finds himself wandering down different tracks while trying to focus on the issue at hand: his eyes and how they changed after his death. 

He can see so much now. He can see the details of flames, the little threads of fate connecting people, and so much more. And if he squints really hard, he can see their days counting down.

Needless to say, he doesn’t do that much.

As it is, he's grown used to the glow and flicker of auras around a person, and the crisscrossing webs of fate tangling the city. It's… comforting. To know how the world can move on without him but knows well enough with just a push from him, things could change utterly and completely.

But, again, not the point.

The point is that he has never attempted to start training or learning about these things. He's never tried turning this enhanced vision on and off before. Never really tried to focus on just one aspect to read instead of all of them. 

Never thought ahead of the possible repercussions of his sight when he sees someone die.

Harry takes a harsh breath in through his nose and out his mouth. Again and again until his breathing is smooth and he's backed a step away from another episode. 

Consider. Calculate. Compartmentalize.

But now he knows and there’s no going back. He has to do something. He has to train and adapt lest he risk destruction should he react poorly again in an uncontrolled environment. And maybe…

Maybe he should stop avoiding Them. 

He sighs and runs his face with one hand. That's… something to consider later. First, he needs to plan. Not really his strong point, unfortunately, but he’ll have to make do. He can’t let this go on any longer. Can’t let his fear and self-doubt continue to restrict him.

Especially now, of all times. What with the situation he's put himself in. _Why_ did he think it would be a good idea to follow Reborn across the ocean? Ugh, he is practically asking for things to go wrong.

Sighing again, Harry turns onto his side and pushes himself up carefully. He feels sturdy enough, so he continues and eventually gets to his feet. He just stands there a moment, breathing and looking around. Somehow all his furniture survived, which is nice. He really didn’t feel up to doing any magic at the moment and buying a bunch of furniture at once would be much too suspicious. 

A bit later he's sitting at his kitchen table with a journal, fountain pen, and glass of water in front of him. But he's just staring at the journal. He needs to start writing down his thoughts and plans concerning the issues he's having but…

He groans aloud and buries his face in one hand while snatching up the pen with the other. 

Merlin, Harry just get on with it.  
_

He sleeps, eventually, and his sleep is dreamless and heavy with exhaustion.   
_

He opens the shop the next day, after the one he had rather inadvertently taken off. The panic had eaten much more time than he had realized and he realized that for once it was probably for the best to let himself relax and rest for a least a bit. It also gave him time to think about things.

But then Reborn is sitting on his counter when he returns from the back, eyeing him, and Harry barely manages to bite back a sigh. Reborn raises an eyebrow at him in either expectation or derision. 

Maybe both.

Harry makes his way over and slips behind the counter, putting up the books he had grabbed to display. He lets Reborn stew a bit in silence, though it doesn’t make it much easier on himself, either. When the last book is up, he takes the one that was there previously and sets in on the neat stack to the side on the counter. He then grabs his stool, sits, and turns to face his doom – Reborn. To face Reborn.

Deciding to be petulant, Harry merely says, “Good morning.”

Reborn's eyes narrow barely a fraction of a millimeter but Harry was expecting it and thus saw it.

“…Good morning.”

“What can I help you with today, Reborn?” He's not really surprised that his absence was noticed, but he's not sure why exactly it constituted a visit. He mentally crosses his fingers that he didn’t see him disappear from the scene two days ago. Hopefully this is just about the store being closed yesterday, though considering how he had been… indisposed, Harry was not inclined to tell Reborn much about it.

“You were gone yesterday and you look ill. Should you even be here?” Reborn looks him up and down very obviously, making his point very clear. He probably looks a mess; he hadn’t bothered much with cleaning up beyond a shower and some clean clothes. 

“I’m fine,” he replies rather reflexively. He follows with more to divert attention as much as he can. “I was busy and decided not to open the shop. It’s easy since I’m the owner.” Play it cool, Harry.

Reborn hums thoughtfully. “Indeed.” He looks down and Harry notices his foot twitching.

Bloody _fuck_.

Harry sighs almost explosively and slumps down to rest his chin on top of his crossed arms. He may as well play it up, he supposes. Hopefully there won't be as much cross-analysis this way, because he can see now that avoiding all of it is impossible.

“I woke up late and ended up deciding I needed a day off, okay?” Harry grumbles, pouti- _frowning_ at Reborn, though its effect is likely lessened by his hair falling over his eyes. He needs a trim, apparently. 

The not-baby takes this all in stride, not looking the least bit impressed. “Odd, how I don’t recall you ever taking a day off since I met you in Italy.”

Harry blinks and gives him a sly look, “Aw, you do care!” He gives himself a point at Reborn's grumpy face – a slightly clenched jaw and downturn of lips. “Don't worry about little ol' me, Reborn. I wouldn’t disappear without saying goodbye!”

He gives himself another point for his warding skills. Truly those aggression prevention and redirection wards are amazing (he is very glad he made peace with the goblins). They were the first ones he'd put up in this shop, he remembers, as he watches Reborn try not to scowl.

You know, just in case.

Reborn is much too composed, however, and soon he’s looking at Harry speculatively. Harry knows that Reborn knows he's hiding something. It is unusual, after all, for him to miss a day. He never really gets sick and what he does get can be handled by potions easily enough. Not that Reborn knows that specifically, but he understands that the tiny hitman knows more about Harry than he lets on and definitely more than Harry is comfortable even thinking about.

Harry also doesn’t really have a life outside of his shop walls. He doesn’t go looking for interaction of any kind. He goes shopping for groceries and other essentials, sometimes picks up food from restaurants, and will go on walks to and from the park usually. But that’s it and Reborn is very aware of it. 

Reborn is the only one he's talked to with any kind of frequency or regularity in the past several years. It's… odd to think about and hard to acknowledge. He doesn’t care much for people anymore but he knows very well that being left alone for extended periods of time is the fastest way for him to start retreating into the shadows of his mind.

Harry is just unsure of what the not-baby plans to do with any of this information, proven or otherwise.

That is, until Reborn opens his mouth next.

“I think it's time I introduced you to them all.”

What the _fuck_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes and meets Tsuna's Family at Reborn's... "request."
> 
> It's traumatizing for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh, so this is maybe kinda filler, of a sort? It doesn't necessarily have anything super plot relevant, but I tried to sprinkle a lot of information in. Though it kind of ended up mostly at the end. So enjoy almost 5k of not-quite filler. 
> 
> Also I'm super sorry for the delay and I'm very sorry for not answering last chapter's comments. ú_ù Life's been shit. I'm gonna include some general responses to the comments as a whole in the end note.

Harry is standing outside the door to the Sawada residence, at a complete and utter loss. By the time Reborn had left two days ago, he had managed to get him to agree to dinner at the Sawada's house that coming Saturday.

Today.

Right now.

He stands there at the gate, stock still. He's wearing jeans, a simple black (dragonhide) tank top, covered by his favorite sweater: a large, deep green monster of softness with a wide collar that will occasionally slip off a shoulder. It’s a bit annoying and he doesn’t usually wear it out of the house due to that, but he figures he's going to need all the support he can manage, emotional or otherwise. Also, the slightly-too-long sleeves do well to keep his fingers warm.

He’s sure Reborn knows he's here but is feeling magnanimous enough to let him have a moment. The early November chill nips at his cheeks, his nose already mostly numb. He rubs it lightly with a finger, but it doesn’t help.

He can practically _feel_ the noise. If there was a physical, thought-out list of reasons he’d become so reclusive, escaping the sheer _noise_ of other people would have been in the top three. Likely along with something about just escaping people in general.

The mere idea of going in there makes his head hurt, but he knows that If he runs now, Reborn is going to make his life _hell_. He groans out loud, just thinking about it. A hand comes up and he fiddles with his necklace, a small lily carved from malachite and moonstone. It lies just under the dip of his collarbone on a simple black cord. He'd attached as many wards and charms as he could to the thing and wore it whenever he left his house.

His thumb runs over one of the petals and admits to no one that maybe he never takes it off. Just like the cord below it, holding a ring that rests below his sternum, though that one is unknown to all but himself.

He takes another deep, calming breath and approaches the door. Only mildly surprised that Reborn doesn’t greet him immediately, he knocks. All at once there’s some sort of stunned quiet that overtakes the house. It last but a moment before there’s a few shouts followed by a crash, and finally loud thudding footsteps along with other general noise. The door swings open rather more aggressively than Harry thinks it needs to and Tsuna's wide brown eyes are staring up at him.

He raises an eyebrow and Tsuna blinks, then jerks. “Hari-san?” Harry sighs only minutely at the mispronunciation of his name. Tsuna is not well-versed in any language but Japanese, though. “What are you doing here?”

This is unsurprising and Harry tries not to roll his eyes. “Reborn did not tell you I was coming.” It is a statement of fact, not a question, but Tsuna still shakes his head dazedly. “Hm. Well, may I come in?”

Tsuna jolts and practically throws himself back to make room for him to enter, “Of course! Please, come in!” This time he sighs more audibly as he steps in, but the boy doesn’t seem to notice.

He takes off his shoes and slips on a pair of guest slippers he pulls from the cabinet that may or may not have existed before. While not necessarily a traditional Japanese house, he still takes the time for it before stepping into the house further.

By then everyone has had the opportunity to openly stare at him for at least a good 30 seconds. His gaze wanders over them briefly. Several preteens, an actual child – make that two, a woman likely still a teen, a tall man in a white suit, and- ah. Reborn.

He starts to take a step forward towards the not-baby, wanting to complain, but is stopped when the man practically teleports in front of him and falls to one knee.

He watches with wide eyes as his left hand is grabbed relatively gently and pulled closer to the man's face. “What beauty! It surely must be destiny that brought you here tonight!” Harry stares, utterly bewildered as the crazy man presses a smacking kiss to the back of his hand. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me home tonight?”

Dots start connecting in Harry’s brain, and he lets himself take the situation in for a short moment. He breathes in and lets it out smoothly, maintaining his calm as best as he can.

A moment later the pervert is on the ground, unconscious.

The others in the room seem torn between staring at him or at the man on the floor. Harry wipes the back of his hand on his jeans – never his precious sweater – and again starts towards where Reborn sits perched on the back of a sofa. Once he’s a few steps away, Harry looks at him, trying to convey the thought of “what the fuck have you dragged me into" in every part of his expression and body language.

Reborn is practically radiating smugness and glee behind that damned mild expression he always wears, likely at the fact that the chaos his arrival has caused is only the beginning. Dread starts to curl in his stomach and he does his best to smother it. It’d only make Reborn's excitement even worse if he showed how the situation is affecting him.

“Reborn.”

“Harry.”

A pause and-

“ _What_!?!”

“’ _Harry_?!’ You’re a _man_?”

Harry scowls, seeing Reborn's growing grin before he turns to look at the other people in the room. All but Tsuna and the unconscious man are staring at him wide-eyed. Tsuna is blinking at the others with his eyebrows furrowed, looking between them and Harry.

He turns his gaze to the teens. He remembers Gokudera and Yamada, but he only learned of Sasagawa Ryohei recently. He glowers at them, confused and rather insulted. “Why is this surprising?” He manages to ask evenly.

“Ah, uh- You- Uh-" Gokudera stutters badly with his face so red he can see it even with the boy's head bowed to his chest in embarrassment.

“You are extremely beautiful!” Sasagawa says loudly and cheerfully, “You had me fooled to the extreme!” Yamada laughs along in agreement.

Harry’s face falls blank in his shock. He stares at them as they continue talking, ribbing Gokudera who starts yelling at the two of them.

There's a tug at his sweater, breaking through the blankness, and he looks down to see the two small children. The boy with the mass of hair even wilder than his and the squinting Chinese girl. The girl squints even harder – why doesn’t this poor child have _glasses_ – and then declares in Mandarin, “They’re right, you are very pretty.”

Harry feels the shock coming back.

“Hey, hey! Why do you look like that? Are you really a guy?” the little boy asks loudly with his hands on his hips.

At that, Tsuna runs forward and snatches the boy away, to Harry’s relief and annoyance (vengeance will just come later). The girl looks between Tsuna scolding the brat and Harry, who is feeling the shock start to give way to fury. She lets go of his sweater and takes a step back.

“Sorry,” he hears her mutter, looking down at her shuffling feet.

Harry holds back his flinch at that and takes a deep breath. He turns just enough to give Reborn a look promising retribution, which the annoying not-baby merely smirks at. He then turns back to the girl and sighs. He slowly goes down to one knee to be closer in height to the girl. She's looking up at him curiously with her head still bowed.

“It’s fine, little one. I am not mad at you,” Harry assures her in fluent Mandarin. Her eyes widen a bit and she perks up at the use of her native language. She obviously wants to share chattering at him, but he has other things to deal with at the moment. So, he smiles as softly he can manage under the circumstances, “Maybe we can talk later, little one. Though I’m sure you have better things to do than chat with an old man like me.” She giggles brightly and quite noticeably thinks he's joking when referring to himself as an old man.

Well, that’s a bridge to cross at another time.

He stands again and rolls his neck a bit, trying to loosen the growing tension. He ignores the children, all of them, for the moment and turns to Reborn. “Reborn.”

“Harry.”

One day he’s going to wipe that smug grin off his little- Harry takes another breath. He is calm. He is rational. He can solve this like a reasonable human being.

He squints as he considers all the problems with that last thought before pushing it aside. Another few deep breaths. The children are still squabbling, the young woman has been dragged in with the three teen boys and the small boy has joined them, seemingly just to talk as loudly as they are.

Oddly, Tsuna is sticking to the walls. He glances between them all almost constantly, but he’s just far enough away from the group to not be involved in the conversation and at a good angle to avoid any attack directed at them. He raises an eyebrow and looks between the baby Sky and the not-baby.

Reborn nods at him, smirking, and he hums in interest. Rather impressive improvement if the records about the poor boy was right. Then he narrows his eyes at the hitman. “Enough, Reborn.”

He has the ball to _chuckle_ , “I’m aware that you hardly ever look in the mirror, Harry, buy surely at some point you would have noticed?” The tiny hitman looks him up and down blatantly. “You are a very androgynous man, and in the right circumstances you can lean more towards masculine _or_ feminine.”

Harry huffs and fights the urge to stomp his foot. He hasn’t been this thrown off about anything in _years_ and its terribly _frustrating_. “And you didn’t want to mention this before now?”

Reborn's smile is nauseatingly sweet but Harry can _see_ the ulterior motives behind those wide eyes. His scowl deepens.

“Harry. In some ways you are quite observant. In others… Well, in the years I’ve known you, you have never once reacted to the flirting you have received from your clients regardless of gender, manner, or any other factor.” Reborn could probably cackle at the utter confused disbelief painted across the informant's face. “How could I pass up the opportunity to observe the misery you sow through hopeful suitors when you never react to their advances?”

As he speaks, Harry is suddenly overwhelmed with the thought. Had they? Flirting? All these years? Is this why he had so many repeat customers, some who came in and asked the same questions over and over, or ones that didn’t make any sense or had simple answers? When some of them asked personal questions about him?

Reborn's grin grows. “That sweater is very flattering on you.”

It clicks and Harry is suddenly moving. He doesn’t bother going for Reborn, not wanting to even try and deal with him right now. He'll get what’s coming to him later.

A second passes and the three teenage boys, the young woman, and the tiny afro-boy are kneeling on the ground with large welts on their heads. Harry stand before the now silent children a moment before kicking the nearby man on the floor, who grunts as he's “nudged” onto his back. He huffs out a breath when Harry’s foot forcibly rests on his chest, though with no intent to injure.

For now.

As the man blinks and focus on him, Harry smiles charmingly and looks over to Tsuna, who flinches. “Tsuna-kun, would you kindly introduce me to your friends?”

He scrambles over and does so. Along with the teen boys, he is introduced to Bianchi, Shamal, Lambo, and I-pin. Tsuna then clears his throat and gestures, “Um, this is Hari-san. He, uh, runs the bookstore near school.” Not much else can happen after that, as a second after introductions are done another door in the house opens.

A woman in an apron merely blinks at the chaos, her smile never dimming. He recognizes her as Sawada Nana, and her feelings about her are still conflicted so he keeps an open mind for now. “Goodness, you are all full of energy! But let’s calm down a bit now. Dinners ready!” She waves the wooden spoon in her hand like a baton and walks back into the room she came from.

They all pause but in a split second the boys and young children are up and running for what is presumably the kitchen or dining room. Harry sees a hand sneaking up to curl around his ankle and presses down harder. It draws a wheezing chuckle from the man.

“When you said someone interesting was coming by, Reborn, I shouldn’t have been so surprised.” His voice is a bit rough so Harry huffs and takes his foot away, moving back several steps.

Reborn hums, “Rather foolish of you to let your guard down like that.”

The man – Harry has heard of the “great" Doctor Shamal, though now he questions everything he thought he knew – sits up, rubbing his head. “Ha-ha, yeah.” Eventually he makes it all the way up and to Harry’s annoyance is at least a full head taller than himself. He squints at Harry, “I have to admit, I’m not usually so easily tricked.”

Harry sneers, “Just because you were fooled doesn’t mean it’s a trick. Since it _wasn’t_ a trick, it just goes to show your gross incompetence.”

Shamal pouts, but it quickly forms into a grin, “I definitely like this one, Reborn. It’s a shame you aren't a woman, though.”

“Why does this matter to you so much?” Harry puffs up, ready to verbally eviscerate this man.

Reborn interrupts before Shamal can speak, “He has made an oath to only treat women.”

Shamal doesn’t deny it and Harry lets the disgust show on his face. He had hoped that was an exaggeration or such when he first heard. “It was already obvious to me that you are a terrible doctor, but this?” He huffs, “How dishonorable, even for a man of the mafia. Picking and choosing who to help and you still call yourself a _doctor_. More like a picky charlatan who only knows a few tricks.” He turns away from Shamal's gaping and Reborn's aura of sheer delight when he hears Sawada Nana returning.

“Is everything alright? We are all waiting for you. It wouldn’t do for you to skip meals!” Then she seems to finally fully focus on Harry, which he absently makes a mental note of for later. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry, no one told me we would be having another guest tonight!”

She looks like she’s about to run back into the kitchen, so Harry goes to her quickly. “It’s quite alright, Sawada-san. I was… invited to dinner tonight by Reborn-kun. I’m sure he just forgot to tell you. You know how little boys are, so easily distracted by the simplest things.” Harry smiles sweetly and hopes his words annoy Reborn terribly. He hears a choke due to a cut off laugh from Shamal. He doesn’t turn around and Nana is focusing on him so it’s of no concern at the moment.

“Well then, you seem to know who I am, but who might you be?” Nana looks terribly curious, with a bright grin that makes his heart twinge. This woman who opens her home to all, even if she doesn’t know even a fraction of what’s going on…

Harry clears his throat, “Call me Harry, ma’am.”

“Oh dear,” she waves a hand at him, “none of that, now. Call me Mama! Or Nana at the very least. Tsuna has spoken much about you recently, you own the new bookshop down the street, right? I have been thinking about going soon, but now I must!”

Harry blinks as he finally notices that hes being led to the kitchen amidst her chatter. He'd only seen Tsuna a handful of times, so it came as a surprise to hear he had been mentioned at all.

When he brings this up, Nana laughs, “Oh, my dear Tsu-kun has always been shy. But when he comes home from your shop I can just tell! And he says you have the most interesting books and are very,” she frowns a moment, trying to recall the wording, “Ah yes, ‘kind and beautiful' is what he told me. And I just knew you would be, but you really are very handsome!”

A combination of factors plays into his response to this. In their time talking, they had neared the table towards the end so likely everyone heard what Nana said about Tsuna's thoughts. So, he's not getting the full brunt of their gaze. Secondly, she called him _handsome_ , which is a balm to his injured pride. And lastly, he was partially distracted by some of the things he was seeing in relation to Nana. But that was something to look into later.

Regardless, she rises several notches in his impression and liking of those in the house. Granted, the others haven’t been given much of a fair chance at this, but Harry was feeling a bit too spiteful to care. So, truly the only people on the higher end of the scale are Reborn (reluctantly), Tsuna, and now I-pin and Nana.

Nana ushers him to a seat on the end of the rather long table, pulling another from seemingly nowhere to add to one of the sides. At his surprise, she smiles, “Visitors and guests of honor get this seat!” Harry’s not sure how that’s been working with so many people coming and going recently but he doesn’t argue with the woman. He thanks her politely but doesn’t take a seat until he has helped her set the table, brushing off her fretting and assurances that she’s fine.

He sees the soft smile out of the corner of his eye, though. So shy and hesitant, as if this is unusual and she’s not sure how to handle it, but she’s thankful, nonetheless. It makes his eyes narrow at those sitting at the table, keeping the stern gaze from Nana, and getting several uncomfortable looks.

* * *

Dinner is rather an uncomfortable affair, but it doesn’t bother Harry at all. He engages Nana in almost constant conversation, getting a _look_ from Reborn at his (almost instinctual by now) digging for information. But he’s the only one to notice, having the most experience with him. He merely raises an eyebrow and continues to ask Nana about the adventures the boys get up to (and the excuses she’s been given). Reborn joins the talks unobtrusively and Shamal manages to get some words in as well. Harry attempts to draw Tsuna into some of the conversation, but the boy is a bit too tense to really participate.

He learns much during the meal.

He will have many things to think about the next few days. But that is later, and this is now.

He throws in disparaging quips every few sentences, aimed at not only the general assumption that he was a woman, but also the over-the-top reaction and ridiculous squabble that followed. He targeted Shamal the most, knowing the most about him and less guilty about testing a full-grown assassin than a bunch of children. He pokes at Lambo only a bit, knowing already he is the type for extreme reactions and outbursts and he doesn’t want to interrupt Nana's dinner. He teases I-pin only lightly, and Tsuna gets off relatively easy as well.

He warms up to Nana quite quickly, however, and plans to drop by for lunch in a few days while the others are out. He could easily hide a couple ward stones in the house. Just a few to prevent major injury and discourage destruction of the poor building.

Nothing too intrusive.

* * *

He stays with Nana after everyone has been shooed out to help with the dishes.

“Nana-san, I do wonder how you deal with all the constant noise. I’ve only been here two hours and I’m already tired of it!” While true, he been tired of it more so around the 15-minute mark.

Nana beams at him, looking up from the dishes she's drying. “Oh, it’s just so wonderful, you see. It’s been so quiet in this house for so long, after all. The change is lovely to hear.”

The glass makes an odd noise from where he’s holding it under the water. “Quiet? That can’t be right. Tsuna’s such a rowdy child, and surely you must have more family!” he comments as guilelessly as possible. He hands the glass to her to dry after discreetly checking it for cracks.

“Oh, well,” Nana is more subdued, but her smile is still present. Though just as wide, its not nearly as bright. “It was just my husband and me before little Tsu-kun came along. But he’s terribly busy, you see. He works in construction around the world and can’t stay long when he does visit.” She looks down and busies herself with drying the glass as Harry stares at her. He wrenches his gaze away eventually to start washing a cup.

It’s silent for a minute before Harry can’t hold it in and he sighs. “Nana-san?” She hums, “Your husband sounds like an idiot.”

She fumbles the glass, but Harry doesn’t look up, trying to diligently wash the cup in his hands. Before she can speak (vehemently, according to her body language), he continues, “I only just met you today and I can see how bright you and Tsuna are. It’s almost blinding, to be honest. But I know from experience, Nana-san,” he looks up and hands her the cup, “That it must have been very hard. Raising a son on your own and both of you still coming out so blindingly bright, despite all the things you must have gone through, that it’s hard not to smile in your presence? It’s amazing.” He takes one of her hands in his wet one to place the cup in them, and she grasps it mechanically, still staring at him. The smile has faded, but he can still see it at the corners, as if it’s hard for it to leave.

“I know that, long ago, I would have given anything to be a part of such a thing. So, your husband is an idiot. Because he doesn’t see it. Because it seems that he doesn’t think it’s a problem to not want to be here with the two of you. That you’ll be fine.” Harry drain the sink and wipes it out, starting to put things away. “And you are, in many ways, aren’t you? The both of you are. But I know quite well that just because things are fine doesn’t mean they can’t be much better.”

He takes the still wet cup from her hands gently, making eye contact, “Do you not believe that you and Tsuna deserve to be more than fine?”

He dries the cup and puts it away with the last of the dishes. He steers a still-bewildered Nana over to the table and sits her down with a cup of tea that will stay warm for as long as she needs. He pats her shoulder and leaves a note by her purse with his address and number on it, only visible to her. When he leaves the kitchen, he brings down the subtle misdirection and anti-eavesdropping wards he threw up at the start of their conversation, closing the door behind him to give her some time to herself.

* * *

The boys are by the tv, playing a video game of some sort. The little ones are in bed, presumably, considering the time. He’s not sure about Bianchi, but Shamal seems to be outside from the slight scent of smoke. He approaches the teens, getting a hilarious flinch when they spot him. He lets them stew as he grabs his sweater - which he had taken off to help with the dishes - but turns back to them before he puts it on. “I do hope you boys have a good night.”

“U-Uh, you too, Harry-san.”

He smiles, mostly over his disastrous arrival. “I’m sure there won’t be any issue if we end up running into each other in the future, will there.” Mostly.

“Yessir!”

“Hm,” he bites bite a laugh, “Well, then perhaps I’ll see you around. Do feel free to visit my shop. I’m sure it would be helpful to your studies, school-related or otherwise.” He strides over to the door for his shoes. “Thank you for having me, Tsuna-kun.”

“Uh, of c-course. Thank you for coming.” Tsuna looks rather confused for some reason, but Harry doesn’t feel like staying any longer. So, once his shoes are on and the slippers tucked away for future use, he throws on his sweater and leaves.

Shamal is, as he thought, outside smoking. “I do hope you actually keep that disgusting habit outside.”

The “doctor” snorts, “What, don’t like the smell?”

“Not really,” Harry waves a hand and subtly redirects a breeze to keep it away, “But I do hope you realize that not only is this not your home, but children live here? I imagine you lot don’t expect long lives anyway but do try and keep that to yourself so that they have a choice on whether they get lung cancer or not.”

Shamal stares at him, but he’s wrung dry, so he continues walking, only thinking about wanting to get home for a hot shower before passing out. He hears Shamal hum contemplatively, but he doesn’t say anything, so he doesn’t care. He hopes that the fact he hasn’t seen Reborn yet means he’ll make it home without seeing him at all, but that’s wishful thinking, considering his luck.

And surprise, surprise, Reborn is sitting on the top of a property’s wall not too far from the Sawada house.

Harry manages not to roll his eyes and tries to not make eye-contact so he can pass by undisturbed. Again, with the wishful thinking, but he can try. He lets Reborn hop onto his shoulder, resigned.

Surprisingly, however, he doesn’t speak right away.

Harry doesn’t push it and continues towards his own home. He’s sure Reborn already knows where he lives, though he’s equally sure the tiny hitman hasn’t been able to enter, since he hasn’t been invited. It’s a nice night out, despite the chill, and Harry takes it in.

Reborn shifts his balance, “Will you be getting involved?”

Harry breathes in the night air, closing his eyes for a moment to feel the tingle of the chill work its way down to his lungs. He sighs out warm air and watches the puff on condensation disappear. “I don’t know.”

The not-baby grunts, probably annoyed, and Harry huffs a laugh.

“Really, though.” He stops on the edge of the ring of light coming from a nearby streetlamp. “You may have enticed me here, Reborn, but you should know by now that I don’t like to get involved in things like this.” When he stays quiet, he continues. “I don’t want to, Reborn. This isn’t my job, they’re not my people, and I have no reason to even consider it.”

“And yet you are.”

“Hm,” he starts walking again, idly tracing his way around the lights he passes, now. “A long time ago, I was accused of having a hero complex. I’m sure that’s one of the reasons you invited me, it’s not really something that goes away very quickly or easily, and you are far too observant.”

“You’re trying to get rid of it, then?” It’s an obvious question and Harry is well aware of the different paths he can lead this conversation down, all hinging on his answer.

He’s so tired, but he has new motivation in trying to work towards bettering himself. Yet, it’s probably not the best idea to show his hand too quickly. Harry’s never been one to spill his life story at a moment’s notice, after years of first of his every plea being ignored and then being surrounded by a whole community of people who all thought they knew everything about him and didn’t want to hear otherwise.

To be honest, he doesn’t hate being a hero. He just hates the expectations.

“Wouldn’t you be?” He counters the question with another.

Reborn obviously sees the deflection but is kind enough tonight not to call him out. Though who knows about tomorrow. “Indeed.”

The rest of the walk to his house is quiet, both of them lost in their thoughts. Harry’s almost surprised to see it as he turns the final corner, having been so absorbed in his thoughts.

Reborn hops up to the wall when they near the gate and looks down at him. “Everything is going to continue to change around Tsuna from this point on.” Harry pauses. “The time for choosing how involved you’re going to be is now, Harry. If you linger, there’s no going back.”

His lips twitch into a sardonic smile and he looks at the baby hitman, “It’s nice to have a choice. I’m not really used to that.” Reborn doesn’t say anything as he closes the gate and goes to unlock his door.

The key turns, the lock clicks, and Reborn speaks in an odd sort of amusement, “You should wear that sweater more often.”

Harry turns immediately, feeling slightly confrontational about it, but Reborn is gone. He stands a moment, bewildered, with one hand still resting on the key.

Finally, he huffs and shakes his head, opening the door.

This has been the strangest night he’d had in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I couldn’t find any info on what I-pin speaks; Mandarin or Cantonese. I went with Mandarin but I can change it if there’s a preference.)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented last chapter! Sorry I didn't get around to responding to them all as I usually try to do. Like I said in the beginning note, life's been shit. But I have once again found some motivation to write, amazingly. 
> 
> As a general response, I want to thank everyone for the questions and speculation. :) I tried to make it obvious in the story, but I'll state it here: Harry does not and will not have flames. (I would 100% give him sky flames, tho, if he did. Quell surprise.) He has magic, but it's not quite the same as wizarding magic anymore. It's something else. Harry, being so skilled in the art of denial, has pretty much just been trying to ignore it and just deal with what he can't up to this point. Which is why he had that panic attack when Tsuna was shot with the Dying Will Bullet. I won't go into detail on it here, tho. 
> 
> Uhhhh, also... Lemme know what you guys would think about a Reborn/Harry pairing. *sweats* I swear, I fully intended this fic to be gen. But I may have too much of a thing for the pair to easily write this without at least some subtext. *sweats more* Uh. Lemme know. It'd probably be Reborn/Harry or just no one for Harry. I may have a small desire to have Xanxus have a reluctant crush on him, but I don't think I'd go anywhere with it, even if I did add it. I dunno. *shrugs helplessly*
> 
> So yeah. Thanks again for all the support! You're all superstars~!! *blows kisses*


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a new year, now, full of all that promise and such as usual. Things have been going pretty well overall for Harry. Reborn has started to change just a bit, he thinks, but he's not sure of the reason for or extent of it. He spends time with the young Family, not turning them away when they show up, but he makes sure never to truly get involved. There's a difference between being a contractor and an employee, after all, especially in the mafia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so you know how I said last chapter that it could be taken as filler? Well, this chapter is _definitely_ filler. It passes over some time, though not as much as I originally intended due to... well, due to how long it ended up being. I've been kind staring at it, wondering what to do, so I made some adjustments and posted it. Here you go. *waves hand vaguely* While there's a lot of info in this, it doesn't necessarily have much to do with the plot. 
> 
> Oh, and this is... Uh... *scratches cheek* Okay so I've made the decision to make this story Reborn/Harry. I'm not sure yet how much I'm going to focus on it through the story, but this is the chapter that has made me change the tags to include Harry/Reborn. I dunno if this is gonna end up a slow burn, but it might just due to Harry's oblivious-to-himself nature. But he's getting better, so who knows? Anyway, please enjoy!

Well.

Things have definitely been exciting, that’s for sure. Harry can’t exactly understand just how the numerous explosions are being ignored so thoroughly without the aid of magic, but maybe someone figured out some way to use flames to alter memories? He thinks about it for a minute, mulling it over, and can’t tell himself it wouldn’t be possible. So, he takes the small notebook from his shirt’s breast pocket and makes a note. He tucks it away again, slipping it into a different kind of pocket, one not so easily accessible by others.

See, even an old dog can learn a few new tricks.

Though this old dog has a lot more tricks to learn, he thinks as he contemplates the stacks of books scattered around his desk at home. He’d never been the studious type, but he can do most anything with the proper motivation. Trying to learn how to handle the mess his magic and being have become is going to be the work of many years, unfortunately.

Another explosion goes off, muffled by the distance. He’s sure that if his shop wasn’t warded to the teeth that some of the shelves and fixtures would have already shaken themselves loose, as they had in other establishments nearby. Or, really, throughout the whole town.

He looks through the window to see a cloud of dense smoke rising behind the nearby trees.

Really, this yelling and general noise is getting ridiculous.

* * *

“I, uh, what?” Harry blinks at her.

He had hit it off quite well with Nana, he thinks, regardless of the limitations he has to work within. He’s not really interested in running into Bermuda again any time soon. The idea of having to deal with trying to bargain his way out of imprisonment again even less so. She’s more confident after just about 3 months in his presence, him visiting for tea on occasion and her coming over to his shop once a week.

She hadn’t managed to coerce him into cooking for the kids (he includes certain hitmen in this descriptor, yes) in a while, but he’d finally been tricked.

Nana beams at him and waves a hand at all of the ingredients on the table, “Everyone was so nice to collect and bring of these wonderful things for me, but I couldn’t possibly manage to do it all myself.” Harry stares at the 5kg bag of cocoa powder lying next to a pile of other things. He blinks back to Nana when she continues, “Would you please help me make a wonderful Valentine’s feast for everyone?”

Oh.

He glances over at the calendar. There’s a ridiculous heart mark around the date, made with a red marker. He’d bet money it was Bianchi’s doing.

He thinks back to his shop, where there’s a stack of… _things_ behind his counter now. He recalls the multiple guests, some that he’s seen in his shop before and some he’d probably seen elsewhere but didn’t care to remember at the time. Each of them bearing a little package or card of some type.

Nana ignores the aura of doom and confusion engulfing the man. “What do you think, Harry-san? I know you like to make desserts, so would you be willing to lend me a hand?”

Her beam turns up another impossible notch when he nods, resigned.

He does make her promise one thing, however, and she agrees only very reluctantly.

* * *

“Whoa~!”

Everyone makes varied sounds of awe and delight at the decadent spread practically covering every spare speck of space on the table. Cakes, tarts, chocolates, and candies of every kind, a rainbow of mochi and nerikiri, crepes and parfaits, cheesecake and tiramisu-

Everyone stares at the table with stars in their eyes, though some hide them much better than others.

“Welcome back, everyone!” Nana greets them cheerfully. “I hope everyone brought plenty of appetite!”

“M-Mom?! How did this all get here?” Tsuna stutters, staring at the food, and Reborn can’t even bring himself to punish the boy, knowing everyone is in a similar state. Not him of course, though he can’t seem to look away from the tiramisu.

The woman blinks, “Oh! Well, you see, I had such a dilemma trying to decide what to do when I received all those lovely ingredients as gifts today. So, I called in an expert!”

“Eh? An expert?”

“Oh, yes,” Nana smiles, “They were so helpful. Why, I don’t know how I would have managed without them!”

“Nana-san, who was this expert, exactly?”

But to their surprise, she merely continues to smile at them before waving them away from the table. “Now, I know it’s disappointing, but we all have to have a bit of dinner first, before we dig in. I’m almost ready, so go wash up!” She turns and trots back into the kitchen.

It is difficult, stepping away from the sheer decadence, but they manage to do so eventually. The table has been set up to the side in the living room, relatively out of the way and presumably placed there to leave room in the kitchen and for eating regular meals.

Reborn eyes said table, taking in the details with a sharp eye. It’s a bit unusual, not the kind of table most people would have lying around. Made of actual wood, possibly oak, and well-carved, it’s not a table many would have here at all. He hums, poking at it, thumbing over one of the legs as he examines underneath it. Not seeing anything, he steps out from underneath, but quickly pauses. If he wasn’t known as the Greatest Hitman for a reason, he’d have missed it.

Instead, he sees the little mark. He examines the carving, etched into the wood with remarkably skilled hands, considering the smoothness of the curve. There’s no sign of it being a brand, either. But even though he doesn’t recognize it, it’s familiar enough that he can be confidant in his conclusion.

He goes to the kitchen, catching Nana as she takes the large kettle off the heat. “Ne, Nana-san?”

She startles a bit, but looks over to him quickly, “Yes, Reborn-kun?”

“Did you make any of it?”

Nana’s lips twitch in a smile, and her eyes glitter in remembered amusement. “I did, yes.”

“What did you make?” Reborn asks, keeping his tone light.

She looks over to the table, only a corner visible from this angle, still smiling. “I mostly put together the mochi and nerikiri and helped with the castella and chocolate cakes. Oh, and I did help some with the chocolates and tart crusts.”

Reborn hums, “I’m sure everyone is looking forward to enjoying it together!” He says with a cheerful inflection.

* * *

They do, indeed, enjoy the dessert buffet. The children (really, they are all children, no matter what Bianchi claims and the general ideas of the mafia) struggle the most with the overwhelming options, going from one thing to the next and back again. No one notices anything missing, through the sheer chaos, and don’t miss Reborn’s presence.

It’s unlikely any of them would have touched a dessert with coffee in it, anyway.

* * *

Harry sighs, having returned to his house first, he’d dragged himself back out to his shop reluctantly. Along the way, he was stopped several times and given more packages and cards. He’d had to ask a grocer for a bag, unwilling to try and shrink them or conjure his own bag out in the open like this. At his shop, he sees a few small gifts sitting on the display next to the door. He sighs again, deciding to allow himself this small drama, and grabs them as well before going in.

He drops everything onto the counter, rubbing his face. At least it’s not singing dwarfs, he thinks as he goes around back in search of a bag. He feels a ping from the wards that someone had come in, but he doesn’t bother going out until he has successfully procured a large enough bag. As he makes his way back out, he calls out an apology for the wait, his steps faltering when he feels them leave. Stepping out from behind the last shelf, he looks around and then at the door. The bell isn’t swinging, oddly enough, and there’s no sign of anyone. He’s not worried about any sort of theft, so he brushes it off.

Turning back to the counter, he pauses once more. Ah. He’d been… He’d not been expecting such a thing and it leaves him terribly confused. All of the gifts, bags, and cards are gone. A quick glance around finds them filling the bin not too far from the seating area, one of the larger ones he keeps out on the floor. They’re stuffed in there rather uncaringly and he considers fishing them out when he notices that there’s one thing left on the counter.

Stepping closer, it seems to be an ordinary box. Small, shaped as a rather thin rectangle, white with a little red bow on the corner, and a notecard attached. He flips it, and frowns at his name written in elegant script. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting.

What would this be for, anyway? He’d told Nana-san not to tell anyone of his involvement with that mess. He'd been plied with some of his own treats and most of the castella cake they made together before he left, on Nana’s firm insistence and silent protest of his desire for anonymity. Maybe it’s like the other things he received, he wonders, not really understanding why so many people would be giving him things considering he didn’t really know any of them. Nana had told him that people give chocolates and other gifts to the people they like on Valentine’s day, which he had been aware of, but he wasn’t the boy-who-lived here. There wasn’t anything in it for people these days. Some may want to get on his good side, he supposes, but he hadn’t had any mafioso in today and civilians don’t know him as an information broker. It doesn’t really matter why, though. He didn’t have much of an interest in any of them, friendly or otherwise, so he doesn’t bother to think on it anymore.

The box is much nicer than he expected. It’s covered by a soft material and reminds him of a jewelry box. It’s not shaped right for that, however, so his curiosity rises. Tossing the bag on the other side of the counter, he picks it up and opens it. Inside on a soft cushion is a pen.

“Huh?”

Bewildered, he takes it out and sets the box down. It’s a fountain pen, of all things. It’s hefty, with a simple, sleek design. The case and cap are a deep red while the accents are a shiny gold, and he can’t help the tug of a nostalgic smile. He wonders, briefly, if it’s real gold, but he’s not sure why it would be. He dismisses the thought and turns the pen in his hands. He takes off the cap, taking in all the details. It is quite lovely, definitely well-crafted, certainly at least partly by hand. Which is ridiculous, but the glint of the tip distracts him from that thought.

Harry hums, twirling the pen between his fingers for a moment. Finally, he reaches into one of the shelves behind the counter and pulls out his bottle of ink. He’d stopped using quills ages ago, but he’d collected a few fountain pens. The only one he kept close at hand, however, was usually tucked away along with his little notebook. He keeps the ink mostly for appearances’ sake, but it has come in handy a time or two.

He prepares the pen easily and grabs the pad of paper he keeps nearby. He draws out a few sweeping lines, testing the ink, and blinks with surprise at the smoothness of the lines. A well-crafted pen, indeed. He smiles and writes out his name, just for fun. “Harry” with a few swoops for effect, and the pen almost makes it elegant. His handwriting is still pretty terrible, but after much practice it’s at least legible now. He still prefers mundane pens for the most part, but…

Rolling it in his fingers, he caps it and tucks it into the pocket with his notebook.

Ah, he thinks as he looks at the trash bin again, time to clean up and close, then. He doesn’t feel much like keeping open longer.

* * *

It's mid-March, now, and Harry is busy planning what to do for Nana’s birthday. He’s sure the kids are planning something as well, though if they aren’t, he’s sure something is going to happen anyway. He’d reminded Tsuna of the approaching day, just in case, and was glad he did when the boy yelped and dashed right back out the door.

Today, as he scribbles absently with his mysterious fountain pen, Futa comes to visit. The cheerful chime of the bell makes him look up and he grins at the boy. “Good morning, Futa-kun.”

“Good morning, Harry-nii.”

Harry isn’t opposed, necessarily, to the moniker, but he still has his uncertainties about why Futa likes to call him that. Irregardless, he waves the boy to the chairs and gets up to make some tea. He plates up some cookies, as well, the ones he made specifically for the kids. He has managed to keep well away from their messes, though he never turned them away from the shop, keeping himself at least mostly available for them to approach. Not to say he didn’t keep up with their escapades, but he purposefully kept himself out of the line of fire for their antics. Those both caused by them or otherwise.

The tray clinks against the table and Futa scoots forward to the edge of the seat, offering his help, as usual. Harry swats his hands away gently, making the boy laugh. He prepares the tea, handing a perfectly prepared cup to him and getting a bright smile. “How has you day been, Futa-kun?” he asks as he sips on his own tea, straight black today.

“Ah, well…” Futa goes into detail about what had been happening recently, the good and the bad. He tells of his worries for the future and doubts. Harry doesn’t interrupt, only giving encouraging noises and taking his cup to refill it every time it is emptied, replacing it with a cookie each time.

Futa words die down eventually, visibly more relaxed. “What do you think, Harry-nii?” his voice is quiet, and he watches his own fingers wring at the hem of his shirt.

Harry hums, taking a long sip of the still-warm tea. “I can’t say you’re wrong to worry, Futa-kun. The mafia is a dangerous world, after all, and there’s no telling what could happen. There are still some after you, unfortunately.” He watches small fingers grip his shirt hard enough to whiten his knuckles. “But Futa, while you shouldn’t cast those worries aside, don’t let them take over. After all,” he sets his empty cup down next to the other and pulls those hands free from their death grip. “Don’t you trust Tsuna?”

Blond hair ruffles with how fast the boy snaps his head up to look at him, “Of course!”

He smiles softly and ruffles his hair to muss it up more, “Then won’t you trust him with this? Trust him that he will do everything he can to make sure you stay safe? Didn’t he promise you his help and protection?”

Futa goes quiet, turning introspective, and Harry gives him the time he needs. He sneaks another cookie into his hand and cleans up the rest of the tea setting. He glances at the ever-present book, squished between Futa and one of the arms of the chair. The 9-year-old had thankfully met him for the first time when he’d been alone, having been avoiding capture at the time. The boy’s kind heart had wanted to thank him when Harry had easily kept him safe and comfortable as his pursuers ran straight past the door to the shop.

* * *

When Harry saw him open that book, saw those stars in his eyes, he let his vision fall away to _see_ more clearly as well.

He wasn’t touched by gods or spirits, like many said. In actuality, he seemed to have some connection to magic. Harry had to look a bit closer, intently, and found seer blood far back in his ancestry and an odd sort of curse or blessing. He’s not sure which, but it seems to play into some kind of legilimency as far as he can tell. He’s interrupted from his puzzling at a loud thud and he blinks away his sight. The boy is staring up at him, wide-eyed and Harry feels a flash of worry, both for the boy and himself. He knows who this boy is, after all.

“Are you alright?” he manages to ask, getting down to one knee to bring himself more towards the boy’s height.

He blinks, “You… Why can’t I see you?”

Oh. Well. This could be good and bad. His mind switches tracks and he tilts his head at the boy. Maintaining an expression of slight confusion and polite interest is unfortunately rather easy now. “What do you mean?”

“I…” he blinks again, rubbing at his eyes with one hand and looking back at him. “I can’t _see_ you, like I can everyone else. I can usually see at least something, but I can’t even see your name!”

The boy doesn’t sound frightened, necessarily, but is definitely on the verge of distress. “Ah,” Harry looks down to the book, fallen on the floor after slipping from lax fingers. He picks it up, closing it and brushing it off, before placing it in the boy’s hands. The boy seems startled at this, looking down at the book as if he’s never seen it before. “Well then, my name is Harry, little one. I suppose if you can’t see anything, you’ll just have to ask. Though, I can’t promise to always answer.”

The eyes turn to him once more, looking a little less lost, but still confused. “Ask…?”

“Of course. That’s what you do if you can’t gather the information yourself, right? I’m well acquainted with the process, I assure you.” He gently turns and guides him to one of the comfy chairs, letting the boy sit as he goes for the teapot already out, sneakily conjuring another cup while miming taking it from the cabinet. “I work as an information broker, myself.”

“Eh? You’re _that_ Harry?” The boy yelps, startling Harry quite badly even if he manages not to show it, “The information broker based in Italy with a 100% customer satisfaction rating?”

Harry suddenly feels at a bit of a loss himself at that. A 100% customer satisfaction rating? What? He didn’t even know there was such a thing for people like him, and he’s sure he would have known about it if there was. And 100 percent? That didn’t make any sense either, considering what so many people _do_ with the information they pay him for. He has to shake himself out of his thoughts when the boy continues.

“I’ve heard all about you, but I never thought I’d get to meet you!” There are stars in his eyes again, but of a different kind. “I’m Futa de la Stella! Please take me as your apprentice!”

What.

* * *

Harry chuckles under his breath and shakes himself out of the memory, turning his attention back to Futa and the present. The boy has his book in his arms again, looking up at him. His lips quirk at the sweet picture the earnest boy makes, and Futa smiles back. He’d not accepted the boy as an apprentice, and he doesn’t think he ever would, but he doesn’t discourage the questions he is asked occasionally.

“Thanks, Harry-nii. I feel better now.”

“Of course, you do,” he waves his hand at the tin of cookies, “You had way too many raspberry swirl biscuits. I’m going to have to make more, now!” That gets him a bright giggle and a broad grin, the shadows taking a step away, falling back into their place in the corners of Futa’s mind. Good. He shoos the boy out the door to go play and find Tsuna or the others. Patting his head as he goes and leaving a small blessing on him, to hopefully encourage the rest of his day to be a good one.

Once gone, Harry cleans up easily, taking things back to the rooms only he can access and the small kitchenette he’d added. He sets the dishes to wash themselves and grabs a glass of water before heading back into the shop to see who just came in, calling out his typical greeting.

Which wavers when he turns the corner and turns into a sigh at the sight of Reborn sitting on one of the stools by the counter. Reborn raises an eyebrow at him and Harry barely refrains from rolling his eyes. “How can I help you today, Reborn?” He hums, not answering as he watches Harry make his way over to his usual seat, setting down the glass and sitting ungracefully in his chair. “What?”

“Make me tiramisu.”

Harry stares at the tiny hitman, at a loss. “What?”

“Don’t go repeating yourself like that, Harry, people with think you don’t listen,” he smarms, smirking at Harry’s scowl.

“Then don’t ask such unreasonable things.”

Reborn raises an eyebrow, “Unreasonable?”

His brows furrow more, masking his confusion with real annoyance. “Why would I make something for you, let alone tiramisu? Why would you even want _me_ to make it? I’ve never made you anything before.”

This is true, of course, and it hides his sudden realization that he’d made tiramisu back in February for Valentine’s Day at Nana’s house. Don’t tell him that Reborn… Ugh, who is he kidding? Of course, Reborn figured out it was him. Not that this means Harry’s going to make it easy for him.

He hums, “That’s true, but you do owe me.”

That startles the scowl off his face, “What?”

Reborn doesn’t answer that, moving on, “And all I ask is that you make me tiramisu and give it to me tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? He looks at the calendar, seeing that it’s March 13th, and tomorrow is the 14th. But he can’t make any connection to a reason why tomorrow would be important. He frowns in confusion, looking back to Reborn, “What’s in it for me?”

“Repayment,” Reborn says ambiguously.

“For what? Being a pain in the ass?” Harry huffs in frustration, “Or is this for another of your pranks on the kids?”

A small hand is waved at him, dismissively, which he refrains responding to for moment. “It’s nothing you would need to worry about right now. You wouldn’t be involved much past the actual making and giving it to me.”

“That doesn’t mean much,” Harry responds blandly.

Reborn raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to assure you that it will in no way be involved in any sort of trick or detriment to you? Consider this me doing so.”

“While that does assuage some concern, you still aren’t telling me why you want it from me in the first place.” He taps two fingers against the wood of the counter in aggravation. “You are being purposefully evasive.”

“Perhaps,” he doesn’t explicitly confirm Harry’s comment, but that might as well be called confirmation itself. “I’m sure that in the future, I might be willing to trade for the information for its purpose, but that time is not now. Though if you look around, I’m sure you might be able to come to a conclusion yourself.”

Harry rubs his temple and says absently, “Fine, but you’re being utterly ridiculous, and I _will_ be getting that information eventually.”

The baby hitman smirks in satisfaction, realizing what he said before Harry does. Harry sits up sharply, “Wait, no-“

But Reborn is out the door already.

“Ack! Reborn!” he leaps out of his chair, but doesn’t bother dashing to the door, knowing he’d be gone before he could get there. He falls back into the wobbling chair and runs his hands through his hair. Damn that man! And damn his easy manipulations!

* * *

Reborn does indeed come back the next day. Harry sits at the counter, glaring at the not-baby as he enters. Unaffected, the hitman hops up onto “his” stool and looks around with an eyebrow raised.

Harry huffs, “You’ll get it if you tell me what the deal is.”

“You don’t know yet? How disappointing for an information broker of your caliber,” Reborn says smoothly.

“There are holidays on this day, obviously, and some could have some sort of significance, I suppose. But I don’t understand why you’d think any of them would have something to do with me.” Harry raises an eyebrow and rests his chin in one hand. “While I know you’re interested in the sciences, I’m not sure why you would want tiramisu of all things if you were celebrating what some people like to call ‘pi day.’ Let alone why you’d want it from me.”

Reborn’s stare suddenly seems vaguely resigned and Harry is left a bit bewildered. “Well, it was worth the attempt, I suppose,” he remarks, only making him more confused. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t make sense to do such a thing, would it?”

Harry waits for him to continue and further explain, but he doesn’t, merely looking at him intently. “Alright, are you going to spell it out for me, then, if I am so ignorant?”

“Hm, no,” Reborn eventually responds. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually, and I wouldn’t want to spoil my fun.” He ignores Harry’s incredulous “ _Your_ fun?” and reaches out a hand insistently.

Harry doesn’t react for a moment, trying to see if he can stare the answer out of the tiny man, before deciding to just cut his losses for now. He leans over and pulls out the dish from the shelf underneath him, the glass bakeware covered with a lid and the whole thing wrapped in cloth, just as he sees Nana do when she sends him home with food. He slides it across the counter to the hitman, “Return the dish when you’re done.”

“Of course,” Reborn says blithely. Harry merely raises an eyebrow in response, remembering the time Reborn had “borrowed” a mug from him and it had been returned broken and bloodied, apparently involved in a gun fight. It had been one of his favorites, too. He’d repaired it, of course, but that meant he could use it in the shop anymore should Reborn see it and ask. He does get what he wants though when he continues with, “Undamaged.”

“Right,” Harry manages incredulously. Reborn snatches up the wrapped dish and jumps off the stool. “Well, enjoy, I guess.”

“I will,” the baby hitman says bluntly, making Harry blink. He narrows his eyes at Reborn, wondering how much the hitman could have enjoyed what he’d made last month to do something like this. It was odd to think about. Before he can bring himself to ask, he’s gone. So, he leans back in his chair again, rubbing a hand down his face. He’s been seeing so many odd people for so long, but right now Harry thinks Reborn is the weirdest.

He’s quickly distracted by another customer coming in. He’d been getting a few more than usual today, oddly enough, all of them coming in looking rather hopeful and leaving rather disappointed. They all leave with a purchase of some kind, though, so Harry doesn’t get why they would seem disappointed. He forgets about things for a while until 8 pm, when he decides to close for the day. He flips the sign and goes about his closing routine with his mind elsewhere. At some point he picks up a jacket someone must have left behind on accident, intent to put in in the lost-and-found box, when he has to pause in surprise.

Underneath the bulky clothing, there’s a package.

It’s plain white, with a red bow in the corner, and Harry’s mind suddenly blinks back to a month ago and getting a similar-looking package. This one however, is larger, still rectangular but wider and longer than his hand. He notices it’s much heavier, too, when he picks it up. Tossing the jacket in the box by the door, he takes the gift over to the counter. The tag says his name, only his name again, in the same flowing script. Looking at the box, he finds that it latches in the same way as a jewelry box, just like the fountain pen’s package. It’s wood, however, with a white veneer of some kind. He sees the top and bottom are at an angle, like the whole thing was cut in half from one corner to the opposite. He opens it, the lid lifting as expected and stares at the contents.

The box makes sense, now, as the packaging itself turns out to also be a display. Sitting into carved notches are a series of bottles, all a dark blue glass with decorated cork stoppers. The labels on each one is handwritten on thick paper, identifying the contents of its attached bottle. He grabs one carefully, holding it in his palm. It’s heavy in his hand, just large enough to hold maybe 6 ounces.

Ink.

It’s not a brand he recognizes, but everything about the packaging looks too fancy for it to be anything other than expensive. He’ll have to look it up, later. He’d only bothered to get inexpensive ink and from whatever shop he happened to be in or near whenever he needed it, and the fountain pen he’d originally been using for notes was charmed with never-ending ink. To be perfectly honest, he hadn’t wanted to do anything with the pen he’d received months ago after a standard check for muggle and magical interference. Not even a charm of any kind, for some reason, though he did eventually put an unbreaking charm on it, just in case. With that, he had realized that he’d actually need to keep ink on hand if he wanted to continue to use it. Since he _did_ , he’d been considering going and getting more soon.

But now, here he was, with a set of 7 bottles of obviously high-quality ink, all in a different color. The labels all denoted which color they held with the same color of ink it supposedly contained. Harry realizes he’s holding the one with a yellow label, and he turns it in his hand, admiring the details. He’s not sure when he would use such colorful ink, but he supposes he’ll have to _find_ a use for them. It’d be a complete waste not to use any of them, even though part of him wants to tuck this gift away forever, to hide it from anyone else but himself so it will never disappear. Keeping it in the tattered corners of his heart along with all the other things he selfishly treasures. He’d never received a gift with so much care put into it before, let alone two of them.

He rests the rim of the bottle against his lower lip, thinking. He has no idea who these gifts might be from, though he is sure he’d be able to find out, if he put enough effort into it. Truthfully, though, he didn’t want to know. At least, not yet. Maybe someday, when he can let go of the selfish, burning grasp his heart has attached to such simple yet beautiful gifts. He’ll find out or ask for the reason behind them and be able to accept it. He doesn’t need to know for now, though. He is content in the thought that no matter the reason, someone had been thinking of him and gave him things he hadn’t even realized he would love to receive.

Harry hides a soft smile behind the small bottle, closing his eyes and sending out a mental thanks.

There’s no response, unsurprisingly (and thankfully), but perhaps a day will come when he’ll say it again. Maybe then he’ll get one.

* * *

Harry’s shop had originally been open every day, but after his little… introspective incident, he changed it to have a day off. Wednesday, to be specific. It seemed relatively logical. So now he makes himself take that day off to stay home and work on more personal projects. Unable to sit down for hours to read, he switches between research, meditation, and hand-on practice and experimentation. He focuses on those on his days off, but sometimes he ends up taking the day of entirely, spending the day preparing easy meals for future lazy days, puttering around the house, working on projects, or doing some chores that he doesn’t want to do with magic (there aren’t many of those).

Today has been kind of a half-and-half day. He’d done some reading in the morning, finding some interesting information on different forms of magical transportation, and he had started to wonder if he could do something like it. Harry tried to avoid apparating, not wanting to risk discovery, and it would be very helpful if he could do something like it with his changed magic. Apparently certain magical creatures could travel through things like shadows, water, and mirrors. That would be useful, the mirrors less so than the others, unfortunately.

He’d been pondering on it while playing with a magical artifact he’s gotten as payment for some information. Not that the client had known that it was magical, but he was perfectly willing to hand it over when Harry had asked. He’d found out that he quite enjoys playing with and dissecting mysterious magical artifacts and things. Currently the chain is free from the pendant and he is trying to decide if the magic in it was from the pendant or if it had been separately charmed.

The doorbell ringing pulls his attention away from it, however. He’d known someone had approached but had rather hoped it was just the mail or a delivery. He’d filtered out solicitors from the beginning, even though he didn’t know much about how that worked in Japan.

Harry stretches as he stands, his back popping twice in complaint. Going over to the door, he looks through it with the handy charm he’d placed to see Nana. Odd. He’d given her his address not long ago, but he didn’t figure she’d be coming over any time soon.

The door opens easily at his touch, and he holds mostly open, “Nana-san? If your goal was to surprise me today, then you have succeeded.”

Her laugh is an easy one, more breezy and relaxed than they used to be. She holds up an envelope, “Well, let me surprise you some more!”

Interested, he takes it, absently confirming that yes, he’s fine and yes, he’s eaten today. In the envelope is a ticket. A vaguely familiar kind of ticket. His eyebrows pinch together in thought, trying to recall as he listens to Nana explain.

“I won a few tickets in a contest! There was a set up at the grocery store the other day and the grand prize was a cruise trip to an island!” Nana practically is vibrating in excitement, “I received the tickets yesterday, three of them.”

“Three?” He can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the odd number,

“Yes, and of course Tsuna and I will be going, but I…” she suddenly seems a bit at a loss for words. Harry tucks the ticket back in the envelope for later examination, giving her a moment. “It might be… scandalous of me to ask, but I was… Would you like to come with us?”

Harry blinks at her.

Fretful at his silence, she continues, “The letter said it was going to be a small suite with two rooms, so please don’t worry about that! I don’t want to impose, either, of course. Please don’t feel obligated if you have to keep the shop open. Oh! The shop! I had forgotten-“ She trails off when Harry raises one hand.

“Nana-san, may I ask why you wanted to ask me?” Harry keeps the shock out of his voice, aiming for mere confusion.

“Well, I had originally thought there would only be two tickets, one for me and then another of course for Tsu-kun. While I would love to spend some quiet time with my Tsu-kun, I think it would also be nice to be with…” Nana trails off again, looking down at her wringing hands. She takes a deep breath before saying sincerely right to his face, “I would like to have a friend there, as well.”

Friend.

Harry blinks again.

Friend?

“Harry-san…?”

Nana’s hesitant voice snaps him out of it and he immediately focuses back on the woman before him, who is practically radiating insecurity and worry, now. Swallowing hard, he pushes aside the overwhelming tide of emotions relating to _that_ word. “I…” he chokes a bit on his voice.

“I-It’s fine if you can’t, of course!” Nana stutters, “I don’t want you to have to worry about being away from the shop for so long. The shop! Oh dear, I didn’t realize! It must be a problem to close the shop on short notice, right? I’m sorry, I-“

Harry steps forward and places his free hand gently on top of her twisting ones, stilling the movement. “I would love to join you and Tsuna-kun, Nana-san. As a friend.”

A breath shudders out of her in surprise and relief.

He doesn’t mention it, only patting her hands until she released them, relaxing a bit more. “Besides, it makes sense to want another adult there for when Tsuna-kun wants to go do his own thing for a while. Strangers can be fine company, but if you can bring along an adult who is also a friend? Well, it’s an even better solution.”

That startles a laugh out of her, and Harry lets her laugh and try to compose herself. Once steadier, she looks up to smile at him, “I’ll bring by the details to the shop tomorrow. I still have to tell Tsu-kun!” That startles him further, that she had come to him before her son. He was in school right now, sure, but…

“I shall expect you, then, Nana-san. Have a good rest of your day, for now.”

She nods and turns away, waving at him. “You have a wonderful day as well, Harry-san.”

He waves back and watches her until she turns a corner. His eyes then scan around, looking at a suspicious shadow across the street. He frowns, but there’s no ill will or such things nearby, so he lets it go. As he closes the door behind him, stepping back into the house, he makes a decision.

He’ll think about the idea of having a friend, especially one that isn’t privy to either his history or his current job and connections, later. For the moment, he angles his thoughts towards the question as to why Nana got tickets to a ship that has only ever has one destination.

Mafia Land.

He taps the envelope against his chin, glaring at the wall. He’s sure Reborn has something to do with this, the asshole. He’s not certain why or of the purpose, but he sure as hell is going to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Earlier this week: 
> 
> Me: Okay, this’ll be mostly a skip through events. I don’t think I should spend too much time on scenes in this chapter. 
> 
> Me, after writing 1800 words for the Valentine's day scene: *holding head in hands*
> 
> Me, after writing 3300 words just for the White Day scene: *head down, face buried in arms*


End file.
